


New Year's Novelties

by Aelys_Althea



Series: When Worlds Collide [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Hookups that aren't really hookups, Introspection, M/M, New Year's Eve, Physical intimacy (not-explicit), Pining but only briefly, Post-Canon Setting, Sequel, Truths Game, Vague Mentions of Canon Events, different first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelys_Althea/pseuds/Aelys_Althea
Summary: A week after Christmas and the world was a changed place. Not because of the people in it but because of those who weren't.For Neil, that meant everything. It meant a new beginning, something that he was still trying to rationalise. It also meant that, for once, he could step forward and take a chance.For Andrew, a week of thinking and deciding found him circling back to an unforgettable evening. He wasn't one to take chances, and definitely not with strangers, but Neil wasn't really a stranger. Somehow, Andrew wasn't sure he ever had been.~A New Year's Eve story that has next to nothing to do with New Year's Eve~
Relationships: Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose
Series: When Worlds Collide [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083545
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Neil frowned as he extracted his hand from under the strap. He eyed the peeling strip of skin that had torn loose, the cracks in his palm and the edges of his fingers frayed and dry. Gloves didn't offer much protection from water damage and heat abuse. It was a part and parcel of working in a kitchen for three months and only a minor inconvenience but it was still an inconvenience.

Picking at it absently, Neil glanced behind him at the scuffles and sighs of the handful of other workers similarly finishing at ten o'clock on the dot. Any early finish, his manager had said, as though he was doing them a favour rather than himself. It had been a night as fast-paced and erratic as ever, and Neil's broken skin was the least of it.

Eldridge moved slowly, his head heavy and the smudges of tiredness under his eyes as dark as they always were. Georgia muttered to herself, a furrow on her brow as she dug into her locker and piled far too many nick-nacks into her bag than befit the eight hour shift she'd worked. Paul was already striding from the staff room, and Babette was only a few steps behind him. She paused in the doorway, however, and spared Neil a glance.

"Are you coming?"

Neil wordlessly fell into step at her heel.

He hunched his shoulders as they stepped onto the sidewalk, burying his chin in the collar of his coat. Babette fumbled a pair of gloves from her pocket, blowing on her fingers as she did so and bathing them in a wash of white. Neil watched for a moment, watched the closed back door of the restaurant remain unmoving of further departing workers, watched Paul's retreating back as he swept the streets with his standard cautionary scan. Even largely unnecessary, old habits died hard.

"He never waits," Babette muttered, nodding after Paul.

"Is there a reason for him to?" Neil asked. There was no reason to make idle conversation, but Babette was one of the few workers he found tolerable.

Babette muttered unintelligibly beneath her breath before speaking up. "I suppose not. He's got the right idea though in my opinion. Georgia always takes her time. It's like she doesn't actually want to leave."

Neil only shrugged in reply. Even with Babette, his capacity for small talk was minimal at best. He watched the dark back door for a moment, the thin line of light at its edges the only indication that it had been buzzing and alive with diners only an hour before. Then, following Paul's example, he turned and made his way in the opposite direction down the sidewalk, following in the wake of a thin smear of people already wandering the moonlit streets.

Babette appeared at his shoulder a second later. "Did you drive?" she asked.

Neil shook his head.

" _Scheiße._ I was hoping to hitch a lift."

"You know I don't have a car."

Babette grunted. "You have a bike, don't you? Georgia said it was yours out the back a couple of weeks ago."

"Had a bike." Neil hunched his shoulders to his ears against a crisp slap of wind that swept down the street in a wayward slap. "I sold it."

"You sold it? Why? Are you broke?" Babette scowled. "I know we get paid pretty bad but I didn't think you were that crippled by it."

Neil shrugged again. He wouldn't explain to Babette-to anyone-that he'd had a plan. That two weeks ago, as was habit, as was routine, he'd been in the midst of preparing to pick up his poor excuse of a life and jump on the next plane out of Berlin. He'd had an email drafted for his landlord, another for his boss, and was scouring the internet for the cheapest flight to somewhere, anywhere, else. The holiday season was thick with travellers, which made it optimal time to slip through the craps and circumvent the usually meticulous gaze of any observers.

Neil hadn't faced any of his father's lackeys for years, but that didn't matter. It didn't change simple necessities and precautions.

Neil had been alone and away from his mother's firm insistence to move, and move, and _move_ , but that didn't matter either.

Neil wouldn't grow complacent. He couldn't. Three years without a whisper of a threat was nothing compared to twenty five years under his father's ominous shadow. What had happened to his father's men and why he'd seen not a footprint of them he didn't know, but the breath of impending discovery always breathed down Neil's neck.

Until the headline rocked his world off its axis.

Neil didn't buy a flight. He hadn't deleted the email to his landlord, to his boss, but he hadn't silently distributed them either. In the days since, Neil almost regretted that he'd sold his bike.

"It's not that," Neil replied as Babette regarded him with raised eyebrows. "I just wasn't using it that much."

"So?"

"So, I live in an apartment. There's not really any parking."

"So?"

Neil sighed. He would never understand the persistent interest of acquaintances. Even those who were slightly more than acquaintances. Neil had interest in the vast array of people around him up until a point but never the likes that Babette, and Paul, and the likes of Georgia held. With the exception of one person, few people were interesting enough to push through the risk they presented.

A week after the headline, Neil's opinion on that particular matter hadn't changed. He wondered if it ever would. "Why do you care?"

Babette butted Neil with her shoulder, almost knocking him off the curb. "I don't really. But motorbikes are kind of hot."

Neil shot her a frown, sidestepping away from her of his own accord this time. She snorted, chuckling under her breath. "Calm down, I didn't mean it like that." When Neil didn't reply, eyeing her sidelong, she waved a placating hand at him. "I mean it. I heard what you said to Georgia a couple of weeks ago."

It caught Neil like a knee in the gut. He stopped short. "What did you hear?"

Three years and nothing. Six days since the US headline that had changed everything. Even so, the skin on the back of Neil's neck prickled at the thought of anyone speaking about him without his knowledge. Such a thing would have been enough to drive his even more cautious younger self running from town.

Babette stopped alongside him. "Don't worry, it wasn't anything much. I wasn't eavesdropping. Besides, Georgia gossips about everyone, but she's not one for trash talking."

"What does she say?"

Picking at her gloves, Babette quirked her lips to the side. "Nothing much. It's mostly just observations. Like how she's never seen you with a girlfriend-"

"She's never seen me out of work."

"Yeah, I had that thought too," Babette said with another snort. "It's just stupid speculations. Talk about batting for the other team and that sort of thing."

Neil folded his arms. "I don't swing," he said, just as he'd said to a handful of other people who had brought up the trivial subject over the years. Just as he'd said to the first woman he'd kissed-really kissed, in a way more than a passing peck and flutter of breath-and the first man who'd touched him after he'd nearly broken his reaching hand.

It didn't mean Neil hadn't tried. He wasn't entirely oblivious to his sexuality and had always taken care of any urges in a perfunctory manner. The few times he'd chosen to involve other people in those urges had been disconcerting and dangerous enough that he'd largely quashed the thought after each attempt.

That didn't mean he was ignorant on the matter of sex. Locker room talk back in high school days had been more than enough to erase any confusion, and that level of inane chatter resurfaced in staff rooms, in restaurant kitchens, in the back rooms of cafes between shifts. Neil wasn't naive as to just what Georgia had been referring to, or the reasoning behind her questions and speculations. Not wanting to fuck any mildly attractive stranger didn't make him a fool. It also somehow didn't mean that every hour for the past six days Neil hadn't been struck by the recurring memory of an almost offhanded query.

" _I want to kiss you. Yes or no?"_

No, Neil didn't swing for anybody. He was simply finding that he was inclined to take a second look for _somebody._

That somebody wasn't Georgia, before or after she'd asked him out. It wasn't Babette either, which he firmly informed her of.

Babette's eyes crinkled in a snickering grin as he did. "Noah," she said, "Noah, you… No. No, I didn't mean it like that."

"Good," Neil said.

"You know I don't see you like that."

"Good."

"Besides, you're way too young for me."

Neil raised his eyes to the night sky overhead, turning and beginning down the sidewalk once more. "I'm fairly sure we've already cleared this discussion point up half a dozen times."

Babette fell into step alongside him, ducking around one of a number of steadily thickening passers-by. "We have. And you're still-"

"Still three years younger than you, just as I was last week when you last reminded me." It wasn't exactly correct given that Neil hardly even remembered his real birthday anymore, but offhanded comments and observations had him underestimating his age with each recurring identity. It was simpler to fit expectations.

"Yes," Babette continued, "but I've hit the thirty milestone. There's a difference in maturity between us that can never be overcome."

Neil eyed her sidelong once more, from the quivering of her lips as she fought to hide her grin to the slight bounce in her step. "You're in a good mood."

"That's… very observant of you, yes."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know, Noah. Maybe because it's New Years Eve and I'm preparing myself to get wasted tonight?" Babette butted him with her shoulder again. "You can't honestly have forgotten that."

Neil hadn't. Of course he hadn't, and not only because their menu had been finely tuned to fit the festive spirit. Not only because, despite the hour, the streets and roads were almost as filled and rippling with energy as they were on Saturday night rather than the Tuesday it was. He'd been considering the encroaching event that gripped the city, the country, the entire world by storm for days, and it was no accident that, upon leaving work, his feet took him in a very specific direction. A specific direction away from his apartment block.

"You're not going to be alone, are you?" Babette asked.

Neil drew himself from his thoughts, sparing an absent glance for the honking car cruising past them. "What?"

"Alone. "You. On New Year's Eve."

"Oh." Neil frowned. "Why?"

" _Scheiße_ , Noah, no need to get so defensive. Chill out a little. I'd like to think that after knowing me for months now you'd know I'm not going to follow you home like a crazy stalker or something."

Neil shrugged, which was as good as the truth. He was as guarded with everyone and always had been, with the exception of a week prior and a broken conversation over the course of four hours.

"I'm asking," Babette raised her voice over another festive honk, "because you can tag along with me if you'd like. My friends and I are just going to a bar but you're welcome to join."

Neil would never understand why people, often little more than strangers, so readily offered their company. He'd never taken anyone up on the offer-

Except once. But that was truly an exception.

"I'm fine," Neil said, adding a belated, "thank you anyway," a moment later.

"You're not going to be alone, are you?" Babette said, eyes narrowing.

Neil shook his head. No, he didn't think so. Or at least he hoped not.

"Oh _Gott_ , is that a smile?" Babette bumped his shoulder again. "An actual smile? From _Noah?_ _Gott_ , this is truly a night to remember!"

Neil immediately scowled, but he didn't protest Babette's joviality. He didn't protest even when she slung an arm around his shoulders, though he allowed it only briefly before ducking out from under its weight and making his excuses to leave her on the sidewalk among an increasing number of celebrators.

He had places to be and a person to see. Or at least he hoped so. That hope was a strange and foreign thing.


	2. Chapter 2

At eight o'clock, Nicky instructed Andrew and Aaron to start getting ready. For what specifically, he'd only vaguely indicated, but his enthusiasm and the promise of 'lots of free booze' seemed to be the primary selling point.

Andrew wondered when he'd learn. In his opinion, enthusiasm and free booze to anyone who asked was a recipe for too much noise and too many drunkards. Noise meant a headache and drunkards meant overt friendliness and the potential for accidental contact, neither of which Andrew appreciated. He'd long moved out of the clubbing scene and hadn't missed the flashing lights, the sticky tables, and the music thundering too loudly to hear anything but the pumping beat.

Aaron had been far more inclined to partying back in their university days, but he was putting up a fight that night. At nine thirty and already running late, Nicky was still attempting to convince him to come along.

"It'll be fun," Nicky said, perched on the edge of Aaron's armchair and jostling him with his elbow. "Come on, how many times have you had a New Year's Eve in Berlin?"

"Nicky," Aaron began.

"Never, right? I bet never."

"You know I've never-"

"Exactly! So you have to come. You might not be here next year."

"You know I won't be. I'll just as likely be working and if not then I promised Katelyn-"

"Then all the more reason." Nicky's jostling evolved into an arm flung around Aaron's shoulder, shaking him with such insistence that Andrew was, for the thousandth time in his life, thoroughly relieved he'd instilled a healthy dose of fear into his cousin. Nicky wasn't nearly as intimidated by Andrew these days, but he still withheld from unnecessary touching. Unnecessary jostling and shoulder-hugging were especially out of bounds. "You won't get another chance."

"Look, I-"

"It'll just be a party with some of my friends for the most part. Less than fifty, I swear."

" _Fifty_?"

"Probably less than forty. Maybe thirty."

"If you're lucky," Andrew said, just to trigger Aaron's glare, which obliged instantly.

"I don't see why you're so content. You hate parties."

"I hate people," Andrew corrected.

"You do not," Nicky said. "Only most people. You pretend you're all hardass, but-"

"He's actually just an ass," Aaron said.

Perched at the windowsill, Andrew held his brother's stare unblinkingly for a long, long moment. It had been years since their final year of university, years since Aaron had the bright idea-one of the only moments in his life he'd grown a spine-of muscling his way into Andrew's therapy sessions and preaching his case for a girlfriend to Andrew's therapist, Betsy Dobson. It had remained a bone of contention between them that had never properly settled, but the combined forces of Aaron's broken pleas, infuriating at the best of times, and Bee's calm, collected coaxing were the only reason that Andrew hadn't killed Aaron's university sweetheart. To hell with prison, he couldn't stand the bubbly fucking idiot that Aaron had latched onto like a leech, desperate for her attention.

Aaron was the one to look away first. He always stepped down first. Katelyn was the only thing he'd ever fought for in life and Andrew suspected the energy and resilience he channelled into it must drain him of his capacity in other areas. How he maintained his composure as a practicing physician was a mystery.

"Andrew's not the one fighting me on this," Nicky said, which was true. Andrew's silence had neatly redirected Nicky's attention solely onto Aaron. "Could you maybe not dig your heels in just this once?"

"It won't be as bad as it sounds, Aaron," Erik said, wandering from the bathroom in his socks, shoes in hand. A musty smell of cologne following in his wake. "If you'd rather not be stuck indoors, you can always take a wander down to _Brandenburger Tor_. Ellie's place is only a pretty short walk from there and it's worth a visit for New Year's Eve."

"Oh yeah, definitely." Nicky perked up, jostling Aaron one more. "We should go for the countdown! There's fireworks and everything!"

"And crowds, naturally," Andrew said.

"Andrew, you're not helping," Nicky said with a sigh.

"I wasn't trying to," Andrew said at the same time Aaron muttered, "he's never helpful." It was followed a suspenseful moment later by a full-body sigh as Aaron sat forward in his seat. "Fine. Kate will probably want pictures anyway."

"Well, you can't leave your dear fiance with bated breath," Andrew said.

"Can you shut the fuck up?" Aaron said without heat, slouching to the hallway. "You'll end up ruining what's already looking like a depressing evening."

"Aaron," Nicky said, trotting after him, "it won't be depressing. We'll make it fun! I'm sorry Katelyn couldn't come, but I'll take lots of pictures of you for her and-"

Andrew didn't hear the rest. He was already dressed and had been ready to leave since sundown. He'd been watching the clock for hours-since the morning of the twenty-fifth, if he was to be specific. Two and a half hours until midnight was fashionably late enough for his pride to swallow.

Andrew wasn't pining. He wasn't holding his breath with anticipation. No, Andrew was waiting with calculated intention for the follow up to a spontaneous exchange that had led to one of the best nights of his life, and that was with consideration for the past ten years of explorative and extensive sex. How something so simple as talking, as sharing the darkest and brightest moments, could play on his mind beat by beat, word by word, was surreal, and unexpected, and unprecedented.

Neil was a gift that had been presented on Christmas Eve to all but disappear the next morning with a vague promise that wasn't a promise. A promise that Andrew was holding him to nonetheless.

Rising from his seat, Andrew took himself to the door. He was shrugging into his coat and double checking his keys before anyone had noticed him move.

"We'll probably be another five minutes at least, Andrew," Erik said, glancing up from where he was tying his shoes. He smiled at Andrew's blank glance, tipping his head towards the sounds of Nicky still chattering to Aaron two rooms away. "They'll probably need a moment."

Andrew didn't dislike Erik. He didn't like him either, but he wasn't a disagreeable man. He just was, and that Nicky was so enamoured with him after so many years together was enough for Andrew to hand over the reins of his cousin to Erik's sure and steady hands. That didn't mean that Andrew felt the urge to spend any more time with him than he had to, however. He'd only been slightly exaggerating when he'd reminded Aaron that he hated people.

"I've got plans," he said, not because he wanted to explain but because half a life with Nicky as his pseudo-godfather had taught him that explaining was often simpler and more efficient than not.

"Plans?" Erik sat up. "Oh. I didn't know that."

 _Because I didn't tell you,_ Andrew thought, refraining from rolling his eyes.

"When will…?" Erik trailed off from the obvious direction of his question. "Right. Sure. Would you like a lift anywhere?"

In this single area, Erik excelled far beyond where Nicky faltered. It was a point in Erik's favour that he knew when to stop prying.

Andrew shook his head. He wouldn't have taken the offer even if it could have saved him an hour's walk through the admittedly cold evening. After a moment, he offered a cursory, "thanks anyway," before taking his leave.

It took all of two minutes of walking through the chill and navigating around merry-makers already halfway to drunk for the first text to buzz in Andrew's pocket. He ignored the first, and the second, and the third. It was only when Nicky took the next step to calling that Andrew caved; history had proved that Nicky's persistence was unshakeable at the best of times, and disrupted New Year's Eve plans were far from being easily overlooked.

Andrew didn't speak as he received the call. He didn't need to.

" _Andrew? Where're you going? Erik said you have plans._ "

"I do," Andrew said.

" _You… have plans? In Berlin?"_

"Yes."

" _With who?"_ then, before Andrew would reply, " _alone or…?"_

Andrew regarded the sidewalk under his feet as he walked rather than the string of young men and women trailing past him in the opposite direction. Somewhere in the distance a siren sounded. "I'm not alone," Andrew said. _Ideally, I won't be alone_.

He told himself it wouldn't matter if he was, but he didn't even convince himself.

" _Are you-? Andrew, are you seeing someone?"_

"That would suggest some kind of regularity."

" _Well, are you?"_ The pitch skipped slightly higher.

Nicky truly couldn't help but ask. He'd had the presence of mind to withhold from excessive enthusiasm when he'd first learned of Andrew's sexuality but some lengths were still impossible to attain. Nicky was a romantic at heart, and with his own love life neatly wrapped in a perfect bow he'd been intent on working ensuring the wellbeing of Andrew's and Aaron's.

That, and he was practically a helicopter parent. Andrew wasn't inclined to let him hang over his shoulder. "I don't think that's any of your business."

" _Andrew, you're not-? I mean, you're being safe, aren't you? You're not just picking up some random-"_

Andrew hung up. The worry thickening Nicky's tone was only a vague sting in his ears, long familiar and desensitised to. He wasn't a child to be coddled and precautioned, and even if he was it wouldn't be necessary. Nicky had always incorrectly interpreted silence on an issue as ignorance and disregard.

Andrew was always cautious. This was simply a situation that warranted less caution and more proactivity.

The irish pub he'd visited a week before was as bubbling and alive as the street surrounding it. Peering through the fogged window, the fairy lights a dancing array scattered throughout the warm glow, Andrew hesitated only for a moment. A glance around the street, a breath to quell the irritating skipping in his chest, the unexpected tightness in his belly, and he stepped inside.

It was as clustered as it appeared from the outside, but navigating through crowded clubs had never been a challenge for Andrew. He made his way to the bar, eyes scanning his surroundings and every half-turned face with detached attentiveness, and rapped on the counter for the bartender's attention. Within five minutes he was making his way to the single empty barstool still remaining in the room, side-eyeing anyone who glanced at him twice.

Andrew took a sip from his flagon. The woody flavour was rich and mellow, and it would keep for an hour or two of cradling and waiting. Andrew was good at waiting, despite what Aaron might say of his limited patience, what Nicky would bemoan as his intolerance for disrupted plans.

Andrew would wait when it was needed. When it was deserved.

A glance at his clock found it only just past ten. Andrew scanned the room once more. He ignored the resounding thud of his heartbeat, audible in his own ears above even the flood of vibrant conversation, the outbursts of jovial laughter, the clank of glasses and scrape of chairs. He wasn't nervous, was never nervous, but the thought of Neil arriving, of seeing him again was…

Andrew took a sip, swirling the mouthful before swallowing. He had a good memory. He could piece the fragmented moments of their last encounter together like a jigsaw to create a complete picture with minimal effort. He could conjure the picture of Neil's face, his bright eyes and the curve of his lips, with ease. His mind had done little else between the sporadic outings Nicky had insisted upon over the past few days, and in the absence of exy that had consumed the better part of the past decades, it was all but dominating.

Andrew didn't pine.

He didn't gaze wistfully from the window in the hopes of catching a glimpse of a man he'd met only once.

He didn't pause mid-step on the sidewalk whenever he caught a glimpse of a man with dark hair and a grey coat.

Just like Andrew didn't check his phone three times between ten and ten fifteen.

Ten sixteen passed without ceremony, and Andrew's fingers tapped on the side of his flagon in a beat discordant to the music barely making itself heard over the bar attendees. He chewed himself over for a fool, because he knew he was. A fool afflicted by a memory of a man who was barely real, who he'd spent four hours with and learned the world of, a man he'd shared a moment with that had changed his life and-

Andrew didn't pine. He didn't gaze wistfully. He didn't reply to the moments of their conversation and the shape of Neil's lips over in his mind, scraping together the residue of the feelings that had been poked to life. It was different from the fuck-buddies. Different from the more consistent meetings. Different from Samson, and Benji, and Val, and Tomas. Different from the first boy he'd met and really felt something.

This something was entirely other. Maybe it had been the moment, the phone call from Cass, the way the world had tipped. Or maybe Neil had tipped it even further.

Ten thirty passed with a smooth transition barely noteworthy. Andrew clicked his phone screen to blackness, resolutely pocketing it with a silent commitment to withholding from clock-watching until midnight. Until he would leave. Until, if the man who Andrew was half convinced was a hallucination had either shown up or-

"Are you trying to glare holes in the back of that bartender or is this your way of psychically demanding a refill?"

At any other time, Andrew would have glared at any intruder to his thoughts. Or he would have ignored them. Or he would have snapped back a retort that would leave that very intruder cringing from the verbal attack. This time, Andrew thought the interruption was the most welcoming sound he'd ever heard.

He turned from glaring at the back of the bartender's head and glanced up at the man that had appeared beside him. In spite of himself, the thundering skipping in his chest picked up a beat. Andrew blinked. It was ridiculous to pretend he didn't feel lighter at the sight of Neil, and not only because every rationalising thought he'd had of his rose-tinted memories was proved false.

Neil was still attractive to the point of being infuriating. His gaze was still as bright as it had been a week before, watching him as though Andrew was the centre of the room and returning to him even as they darted away with brief glimpses of their surroundings. The slight edge of a smirk he wore was still as eye-catching and anger-inducing as it had been when Andrew last saw it. He still didn't know if he wanted to kiss it or punch it more.

And, just as had happened in the four hours of his company, Andrew found that the brightness of the room around him seemed to fade slightly in comparison to Neil's casual, utterly unremarkable presence. He didn't _look_ eye-catching, except that he was. He didn't _look_ exceptional, except that to Andrew he was. As Neil eyed him like the pivot point of the room, Andrew couldn't help but regard him in turn.

"What?" Neil asked, and it was only then that Andrew realised he'd been staring. He couldn't not stare, though he forced himself into busyness by rising from his chair.

"You're late," Andrew said, placing far too much attention on the stool as he pushed it back into the counter.

"Late?" Neil cocked his head. "I didn't realise we had a time pencilled in."

Andrew grunted. They hadn't set a time, but Andrew had hoped…

 _It doesn't matter_ , a loud voice of enthusiasm sighed in his head. _The timing doesn't matter because he's_ here.

Andrew had never been 'whipped' before and he wasn't now, but he didn't think he'd ever been closer to understanding Nicky's supposed "it's a spark and you just _know_ " moment in his life. It was ridiculous but also somehow wasn't.

"Let's get out of here," Andrew said, abandoning his half-full flagon.

"I just arrived," Neil said, though he immediately turned towards the exit.

"There's too many people."

"I completely agree."

"And it's too hot."

"I can't really agree with you on that one, but okay. Have you considered taking your coat off? It might be a radical thought on my part but that's probably only making you warmer."

Andrew didn't reply as he led the way from the bar, weaving through people and skirting around tables. He was only too aware of Neil following a pace behind him, and for once he was only too happy to have someone at his back. It might not be Nicky's spark but it was certainly something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy it, whether you relate to NYE festivities or not. I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have a second to leave a word or two. Next chapter coming soon :)


	3. Chapter 3

"Easy. Black. Favourite food?"

"I don't have one."

"Cop out. Try again."

"Okay. Um… Fruit. Probably an apple."

"Boring."

"I'll try harder next time to be more interesting."

"You'd better. Go."

"Next holiday destination?"

Andrew paused for a beat to consider and Neil watched him sidelong. He didn't quite know how they'd fallen back into their Truth For A Truth exchange but it had happened and he was far from complaining. Especially given that this game was significantly less confronting than their last. It had been necessary, a desperate outpouring on Neil's part that he was almost certain Andrew had needed as much as he did.

That night was different, and not because things had explicitly changed. They were simply more settled. Less urgent. And Neil was curious.

After leaving Babette to her friends, managing to extricate himself with only a little bit of force, Neil had made his way to the irish pub where he'd last seen Andrew. He was half convinced it would be for nothing, that Andrew wouldn't return and that Neil had made a mistake in walking away from him in the wee hours of Christmas morning.

It hadn't been wrong at the time and Neil still didn't think it was wrong. Mostly. He knew Andrew in a way he didn't know and had never known or been known by someone else, but it was still only four hours he'd spent in his company. Four hours of raw honesty and cathartic questioning followed by the prospect of something Neil so rarely considered with anyone.

" _I want to kiss you,_ " still rang in his head, resounding even more loudly when, arriving at the bar, Andrew had turned his unwavering gaze towards him.

"New York," Andrew said.

Neil drew to a stop. A man walking in the opposite direction to him almost ran into him but Neil spared him only a brief, rapidly assessing glance at his potential for threat before turning back to Andrew. "New York. Of all places in the world, you want to go to New York."

Andrew, his hands stuffed in his pockets, paused alongside him. "You said 'next' holiday destination. Not 'ideal'."

"You're in Berlin, and New York, quite literally just around the corner from where you live, is your pick of the lot."

"I've never been."

Neil's mouth opened to retort but his words died. "You've... really never been?" he managed in a stupor.

"No."

"Not even for games?"

"No."

"That's… wow. That actually surprises me."

Andrew regarded him for a moment, his face slightly shadowed by the night. It was difficult to make out his expression-his non-expression-but Neil was quickly growing adept at interpreting it. He could all but see the thoughts rapidly filing and flicking in Andrew's head, as quick witted as Andrew had proved himself to be.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was why Neil found he actually enjoyed talking to him.

"How many cities?"

Neil frowned. It took him a moment to unravel that Andrew was asking him another question in their game. "Altogether? Just passing through or that I've actually lived in?"

"Those you've actually lived in since you left with your mother," Andrew clarified. "And after her."

Andrew referred to it so casually. _Since you left_ and _your mother_. He spoke as though he knew the truth of Neil's past, as though he'd considered it before he spoke-which he had. As though he knew that Neil had been running, that his mother had taken him away, that she'd died and he'd kept running-which he did. Andrew was the only one who knew, and the thought twisted Neil's gut in a way that was somehow more good than bad.

"Hm." Neil bit the inside of his lip. "This might take a minute."

Andrew nodded as though he'd been expecting as much. With a slight tip of his head, he gestured along the sidewalk. Neil fell into step as they continued.

The street itself wasn't as densely packed as it had been only half an hour before. The bars they passed, however, were cluttered with people, and those that did linger outside were in clusters of laughing and chattering bodies, excitement and good-humour reeking from them. Neil didn't know exactly how long they had until the countdown, but it didn't really matter. Time didn't seem to have a place when he was with Andrew.

"Roughly…" Neil paused in counting on his fingers. "Sixty-seven."

It was Andrew's turn to jerk to a halt. He turned to Neil with eyebrows just slightly raised. "Sixty-seven."

"I moved around in a couple of the bigger ones sometimes, but-"

"How many countries is that?"

"You skipped my turn," Neil said, though he couldn't help but smile slightly as Andrew only raised his eyebrows slightly higher. After another moment of rapid counting, he said, "Ten. Mostly in Europe but some around America. It would be more if it included passing through as well, though I'd have to re-count and we could be here for a while."

Andrew didn't speak. The silence between them hung for a moment, and Neil wasn't sure if it was driven by surprise, derision, disbelief, or something else entirely. Finally, Andrew added, "US states?"

Neil shook his head. "It's definitely my turn now."

"That's far less interesting," Andrew said with a sigh that blew a thin cloud of smoke into Neil's face.

"To you, maybe. I find your answers far more interesting than mine."

Andrew's gaze shifted to open disbelief this time, but he nodded and they continued walking.

It was cold, but not too cold. The night was loud, but not too loud. As Neil asked his questions-"who was the last person who pissed you off?- and Andrew asked his- "choice of weapon in the apocalypse?"-he thought it might have been the most comfortable he'd ever felt walking through a city after the sun had gone down. There was something about Andrew's presence, regardless of his complete lack of opposition to anyone they bypassed, that was reassuring. That was grounding somehow. Stabilising. As though Andrew wouldn't so much stand in the way of such opposition as prop Neil up as he did it himself.

Neil wasn't sure what had done it. He didn't know where the feeling had come from specifically. Maybe it was the warmth of his presence at his side. Maybe it was the way his shoulder brushed Neil's but never more than a gentle graze, never too much. Maybe it was how, at the crossing when they were confronted by a gaggle of drunken wanderers that proceeded to collide into rather than skirt around them, Andrew was an unshakeable force, a rock planted immovably in a whirlpool of crashing waves.

Whatever it was, Neil had never had that before. Not with anyone. Even with his mother, running had always been the priority over making a stand.

As Andrew answered Neil's casual questioning with "I lit the oven on fire, so my cousin forbade me from using anything more complicated than a microwave," Neil couldn't help but laugh, and it was as surprising to himself as it appeared to be to Andrew. He watched him with his mouth slightly open around the tail end of his words, his gaze flicking from Neil's eyes to his lips.

It was probably a little late in realising, but it was the first moment Neil realised they were probably on a date. A second later and he decided that, for once, he was perfectly fine with that.

Neil slowed in step. Andrew slowed alongside him. Neil took a breath, paused. When he spoke, he was almost surprised it came out in a near whisper. "Andrew-"

Then the sky exploded.

What remained of Neil's breath was stolen from his lungs as he jerked his gaze upwards. Overhead, less than a handful of blocks away, a sunburst of colour spread in glowing rays of pink and white. Sparkles scattered in a radiating corona. A moment later and another rose, a shooting star with a tail of trailing smoke, rocketing through the air. It too erupted into a blossom of blue and green.

Another rose. Another exploded.

Yellows and reds, oranges and blues and purples, all blanketed by a thickening bed of smoke. Lines of startling brightness that wove in a tangled mess of glorious patterns, streaking across and under and over one another. The darkness of the night sky, the feeble glimmer of stars that had managed to pierce through the city's incessant glow, was erased by brightness.

Distant shouts and cheers sounded. The bellows of excitement from whatever audience stood directly below the display were barely audible over the explosions. Down the street from Neil and Andrew, on the corner in a dense cluster, cries of "Happy New Years!" erupted amidst a scattering of laughter.

"Oh," Neil said, the rapid skip of his heartbeat gradually slowing. "We missed the countdown."

Andrew made a faint noise of agreement at his side, and Neil glanced towards him. His chin was upturned, his face coloured by the shadows of the lightshow overhead. It reflected his eyes, danced across his muted expression, deepened the shadows around his hair, his ears, his neck.

Neil had never been on a date with anyone before. Not intentionally. He wondered what it said of him, of the new reality he now lived in, that he wanted another one before the first had even finished. He wondered what it meant that, when he considered another date, he immediately imagined it with Andrew.

"I want to kiss you."

It was out of his mouth before he'd realised he wanted to say them. Before he realised that no, Neil never really wanted to kiss anyone, but he thought maybe, with Andrew, he might. The words were nearly lost beneath the whistles and the crashing, the popping explosions of fireworks.

But Andrew heard. He glanced towards Neil, gaze drawn from the blossoming sky like a sunflower to the sun. Light still bathed his face, and it did nothing to hide the flicker of something that darted across it.

"Yes or no?" Neil added, because he could. He should. Because Andrew had said just that a week before and that meant that he had a reason to.

Andrew didn't say anything. He didn't even move for a moment. When he did, it was slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand rising to the back of Neil's neck to draw him towards him. Neil allowed himself to be pulled, and when his lips fitted against Andrew's, even the deafening glory of the fireworks overhead faded into obscurity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I could write the questions game forever, it's so much fun! A little shorter in this story though. I hope you liked the chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

Andrew was caught. Against all odds, against a life of precautions and safety nets, he was caught in a web of his own making.

Except he didn't regret it for a moment. That in itself warranted consideration that, backing into a darkened hotel room, Neil's back dropping abandoned to the floor, Andrew didn't have room in his head to give it the space it needed.

They'd missed the countdown, but Andrew didn't care. Neil didn't appear to either, though after flinching at the fireworks he'd been momentarily entranced. Andrew had been too, though for a different reason; Neil wore his expressions subtly but easily enough to read if an observer knew where to look. After a night of drinking and talking, an hour of walking and talking, Andrew was learning that those subtleties weren't so difficult to untangle and interpret. Not to him.

It took physical effort for him to turn back to the sky, to the fireworks making a mess of smoke and lights in the darkness, but it had only been for a second more before Neil spoke.

 _I want to kiss you._ Just as Andrew had wanted seven days before, and had only consolidated more firmly every day since.

Fireworks didn't burst with crazed enthusiasm when Andrew kissed Neil. Those were already more than represented in the New Year's night sky. What did happen was the warmth of breath and the touch of soft lips, slightly chapped by the winter's chill. What happened was that Andrew locked his hand at Neil's nape and didn't let go. What happened was that, in spite of the string of kisses he'd shared in the past, the array of casual flings and not-so-casual nights with less-than strangers, it wasn't like this _._

Andrew hardly knew Neil yet he somehow _knew_ him. He wanted _more_ of him.

It was easy to become lost. Easy to lose himself to the warmth, the faint gasp of breath, the vague touch of Neil's fingers on his arm that fell away instantly, a touch that wasn't _allowed_ but wasn't _disallowed_ either. Andrew's heartbeat thumped in his ears, nearly drowning out the sounds of whistles and explosions-

Until he was rudely torn loose.

With the outburst of well-wishers catcalling down the street and the taste of Neil on his tongue, Andrew jerked back an inch. He shot the casual observers a glance. They were hardly attending to them, hardly sparing more than a glance and a nod, a hoot of appreciation, with the recognition of strangers quickly forgotten. But Andrew's chest tightened, rebelling against the notion of sharing the moment, the touch, the kiss that was just for them.

"Leaving?" Neil asked.

Andrew's hand was still at the back of his neck. Neil's fingers still hung just above his arm, not quite touching as though he somehow knew to refrain from touching further. Andrew met his gaze, the slight flush across his cheeks at even the barest of kisses. He didn't bother to hide that he wanted more.

Nodding curtly, Andrew turned, caught Neil by the wrist, and tugged him in the opposite direction to the cluster of people down the sidewalk. Behind them, the new year still arrived in a flash-bang of excitement, but Andrew hardly cared. His hand on Neil's wrist became a returning grasp-not a hand hold, but a curl of Neil's fingers around his wrist in return.

It felt right. Such a simple thing, but it felt as right and natural as the feeling of Neil's lips against his own.

They couldn't go to Nicky's house, Andrew knew, and he also knew enough of Neil's past that he wouldn't ask to enter his home. They were familiar strangers, so much more than that yet still only strangers, and he wouldn't demand that. A hotel room might be suggestive of more than Neil was ready to give, more than Andrew was prepared for, but it was better than the curb of a city street alive with people.

Andrew barely spoke but to the concierge. He could manage little more than a curt instruction and a nod before snatching the key for the smiling man and making for the elevator. It was all he could do not to glance towards Neil, to stare at his face, at the redness that lingered in his cheeks, at the curve of his lips that were within touching distance.

They didn't make it far into the room. Andrew wasn't sure which of them reached first, which turned towards the other first, but he had his hands on Neil once more, his lips locked in a kiss and his chest nudging Neil against the closing door as it clicked shut with what was almost a slam. Andrew didn't care and Neil didn't flinch. Hiss breaths shortened, and Andrew swallowed him in with every touch and graze of contact.

Neil wasn't an experienced kisser. That much was obvious, and from the smattering of the past he knew of him, it wasn't surprising. But it was far from deterring. For Andrew, it was like learning he'd been breathing wrong his entire life and finally being taught that this was how it was done. This was what made it feel _just right._

A single person shouldn't be able to do that. One person shouldn't be able to make Andrew feel like that. It was wonderfully wrong.

Kisses. Touches. The sweep of a tongue and the sigh, the almost-groan that managed to creep past slick lips. When it wasn't close enough, Andrew tugged Neil's hands to his hair, a murmured "just here" making its way through the thin breath between their lips. Neil nodded blindly, and the tightening of his curling fingers in Andrew's hair was painfully right.

How long Andrew lost himself he couldn't say. How long his body vibrated with energy, with the demanding need to touch and the surprising need to be touched, if only a little, he didn't know. His skin prickled with warmth, itched with need, and each swallowed kiss only deepened that need rather than alleviated it. His hands somehow found their way inside Neil's coat, pausing only long enough to obtain Neil's affirmative murmur, and held tighter, and closer, and even more warmly.

It likely would have overwhelmed the entire evening had Andrew's phone not buzzed with alarming loudness and interrupted the mess his thoughts had become.

Neil gasped as Andrew drew back half an inch. Or maybe it was Neil that drew back. His eyes were heavy, his cheeks even more flushed than before, and a curl of his bangs tickled Andrew's nose as it brushed against his face. He opened his mouth to speak, his lips that Andrew still felt nothing but the insistent urge to kiss, before another vibration sounded. And another. And another.

"Phone call?" Neil asked. His voice was almost a gasp, and it did nothing to make sense of the tangle of Andrew's thoughts.

"Probably my cousin," Andrew managed.

"Do you… need to take that?" Neil asked around the kiss Andrew stole.

"No." Another buzz, and Andrew almost butted his brow against the door alongside Neil's head. "It could also be my brother."

"Oh." Neil, his hands still locked in Andrew's hair, cocked his head slightly. "The brother that you look after, right?"

Had Andrew really said it like that? He knew he had, because even now Andrew was Aaron's protector. Aaron might not know it but that didn't matter. The thought was enough that, despite wanting nothing more than to lose himself in Neil once more, the compulsive urge reared its head like a waking dragon demanding attention.

The phone buzzed again.

"For fuck's sake." Huffing, moving only enough to extract his phone from his pocket, Andrew took the call. "What?"

" _You fucking asshole. I can't believe you disappeared."_

"Is there a point to this call?"

" _Where are you?"_

"Why?"

" _Why? Because you disappeared and I'm stuck here at Nicky's party, and-"_

"I'm busy," Andrew said, twitching as Neil dropped his lips to his neck. It sent a flush of heat across his skin, sensitivity zapping with electricity from the point of contact. Andrew shot him a glare that didn't have the intended effect if Neil's smirk was any indication.

" _You're busy,"_ Aaron said. " _What, you've developed a sudden need to celebrate New Year's with a bang? That's unpredictable even for you."_

That conjured images that Andrew firmly smothered. "What do you want?"

" _Sanity."_

"Then why did you call me?"

" _Because I'm pissed off and you're not here to vent to. Since when was it part of our deal that you would fuck of with some fuckboy while I had to leave Katelyn in Miami?"_

It wasn't part of their deal but then again, a lot of what Aaron did these days, what Andrew did, wasn't part of their deal either. Bee would be so proud.

"You'll be back in three days," Andrew said. Closing his eyes, he tipped his nose into Neil's cheek.

" _So?"_

"So shut the fuck up and suck it up."

" _God, I hate you."_

"Always."

" _Why are you like this? Would it kill you to offer a lick of understanding or sympathy?"_

Aaron was clearly in a mood if he would even consider bringing up such a pointless suggestion. "Remind me why you called me?"

" _I don't know. I don't even know why I talk to you half the time."_ A pause, and then " _fuck you. Enjoy your New Year's, asshole."_

Aaron hung up, his abrupt departure punctured by ringing silence. Andrew tipped his head away from Neil just long enough to eye the fading screen of his phone before pocketing it.

"That was explosive," Neil murmured into his neck.

Andrew grunted.

"Clearly a compassionate and understanding relationship you have there."

Andrew glared, drawing away slightly. Not far, not enough to bereave himself of the heat between them, but enough that he could see Neil's face. His fucking gorgeous face that all but demanded a return to their kisses. "Is there a purpose to your inane observations?"

Neil shrugged slightly. His hands loosened from Andrew's hair, though he didn't let go. Not completely. Andrew similarly eased his hold around him, his hand sliding from Neil's back to his hip. Letting go-but not completely. The fiery heat between them had eased but it wasn't gone, flickering on Andrew's periphery.

"Three days?" Neil asked.

Andrew pressed his lips together. He nodded shortly.

"Hm." Neil tipped his head back slightly, butting the door behind him. "That's a shame."

Andrew tightened his grasp on Neil's hip slightly.

"I've never had a Christmas fling before."

Andrew snorted. "A Christmas fling?" The very notion sounded repulsive, and far too small to encompass the full-body need within him.

Neil's smirk was a lot smaller this time. "I'm not one much for hookups."

Andrew nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, drawing back slightly.

Except that Neil maintained his hold on him. It wasn't tight, wasn't enough that Andrew couldn't easily break free of it, but it was a silent request nonetheless. A suggestion. "Are you?"

Andrew frowned. "Not as regularly as most. It has its appeal but rarely to me."

"Why?"

His tone held no judgement, only curiosity. The same curiosity that had driven their questions game less than an hour before, and a week before that. For whatever reason, Andrew's chest tightened slightly, a renewed flicker of warmth igniting in his belly. "Because sex is complicated. And intimate. And takes more practice for some people than others."

He didn't elaborate further, didn't want to bring up the darker aspects of his past right then, right when he held Neil so close and wanted to be closer. It didn't fit and he didn't _want_ that.

Neil nodded. "Understandable."

"What about you?" Andrew asked.

"What about me?"

"You. And sex."

"You mean why I don't?"

"Mm."

Neil shrugged. "I just don't really want to. With anyone. Usually."

He didn't let go of Andrew, and Andrew was vividly aware of that fact.

"It just doesn't feel right. Or interesting. Or exciting. Usually."

His finger's tightened slightly in Andrew's hair, shifting to hold just so. The ripple of sensitivity that sparked from the slight tug spread across Andrew's skin with the same buzz of electricity as Neil's lips on his neck.

"I wonder why…" Neil trailed off, and Andrew didn't care for once what he was thinking. Or, perhaps more specifically, he didn't need to consider it. Neil leaned towards him just a little, his breath curling over Andrew's lips. Andrew didn't hesitate to cross the last of the distance between them.

"Three days?" Neil murmured again between kisses, between the tightening of hands and the abrupt disappearance of any lingering space between their bodies.

Andrew hummed a brief affirmative against his lips, though he was only half convinced of the truth of it. Three days? At that moment, even with the tickets on hand, it seemed unlikely that it would only be three days.

"Then I'd better make the most of it," Neil said.

Andrew 'wondered why' too. He wondered, but only vaguely, why Neil filled him with such urgent warmth. Why he drew truths from him like water seeping through a punctured dam. Why when he touched him, kissed him, felt him against him, the guillotine hanging above them that so often dropped upon any moments of intimacy Andrew shared even with the oldest of acquaintances remained firmly fixed and unmoving.

Three days didn't feel like long enough but fuck it, Andrew would make the most of it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and I'd absolutely love to hear your thoughts.  
> Happy New Years everyone, and I hope that, wherever you are, the coming year is better than the last!


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